


In Chrysalism

by lemony_piracy



Category: The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue Series - Mackenzi Lee
Genre: M/M, also i gave fiance a name i feel like ive broken sacred ground, gents guide secret santa fic!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:29:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28778316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemony_piracy/pseuds/lemony_piracy
Summary: Secret Santa Fic for River!!On a stormy night, Percy falls asleep on Monty, leaving him to reminisce over some fond memories :)
Relationships: Henry "Monty" Montague/Percy Newton
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	In Chrysalism

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh!!! So, despite many hurdles, I finally got this done!!! I really hope this is adjacent to what you wanted River and that you like it :)))
> 
> Also endless thanks to my dear friend who this literally would not have gotten done without - you're a life-saver dearest :)

It's been years since our grand tour, since me and Percy were both young men, running off to start a new life away from everything. That’s not to say we’re atrociously old, I don't think I could emotionally take losing my good looks just yet, but my knees yell at me daily that I am most certainly not the youthful thing I once was - and the Goblin still calls me an old man and whatever other nonsense my darling younger siblings love to spout at every family reunion, as Scipio and Percy half-heartedly try to stop me and felicity from tugging at each other’s hair from across the table.

Outside the flat we've rented for the next week, the sea's rolling back and forth a bit more violently than it was yesterday when we arrived. Not so that it’s disturbing or worrying, it’s oddly calming honestly. The clouds are darker, but that’s further out, slowly inching closer to the harbour. It’s beautiful, honestly. I’ve never seen a storm out here before and we’ve been staying in the same flat as we did that first time in our teens for years. I can see the tops waves of waves as they all up against the island’s cliffs, foamy and a deep blue-grey. 

Percy and I still come back to Santorini yearly, the Eleftheria dropping us off on it's usual route, so here we are now. Percy's been dead asleep on my chest for hours, an occasional breath of air, or even a gentle breeze coming in from outside blowing a strand of his hair out in front of him every so often. The oncoming storm doesn’t seem to disturb him at all, which is good, because I’d probably go right out there and battle almighty Neptune with solely my fists if anything woke up my Percy when he looks like this. 

I can’t usually see the locket that hangs around his neck. It usually hangs underneath his shirt where I, unfortunately for a great many reasons, can not see it - but when he’s laying like this, still tired after travelling so far from home, it bunches up and I can see the old golden chain. It’s got to be years old now - and yet it still has the power to tug at my heart and make me fall for Percy all over again every single time. Like he’s handing me all his love and assurance on a gold platter again and again. Like he’ll never regret it. 

The months after I was shot were rough, even aside from me and Perce struggling with not knowing what to do next. Every time I saw myself in the mirror, the realisation that my whole ear had been shot off, that half of my face had been mutilated and permanently scarred - it would hit me again, and knock me completely out of orbit. I’d held myself up against this standard my entire childhood. My looks and my ability to get a girl (or lad) into bed with me with just a flash of the notorious Henry Montague dimples had always been what I'd measured my worth against. It’s better now (even on the worst of days), and I know to catch myself when the thoughts start spiralling.

But...at the time when it had felt like it was all I had, Percy Newton had been the one to catch me.

“I love you - you’re beautiful, Monty, you always were. even when we were tiny and I didn’t know what the word meant yet. And you always will be.”

He didn’t need to say anything more and he pressed soft kisses against my face for hours, marking every single spot with his gentle lips. His hands ghosted the back of my neck, that’s if they weren’t tracing every line or mark or scar on my face like the things I’d cursed myself for for months were an array of beautiful stars - a constellation he wanted nothing more than to discover and record for the first time over and over again.

Neither of us spoke, just held each other, breathing against the others skin. At some point we must’ve both fallen asleep, because I don’t remember a single thing until later in the day. Night had washed over the city, you could properly see all the stars and constellations that littered the sky. We didn’t get much weather like this - the middle of the smoggy, polluted London wasn’t exactly the best spot for stargazing.The first thing I remember after waking up is slipping out of the old flat, heading straight for the casino. Yours truly's esteemed place of work. 

Well, at the time. I’d ended up hitting someone I really shouldn’t have - for good reason, obviously. But, ah, my employer didn’t agree.

But! At the time, look at me, I headed to the old bar behind the market, I made money from fooling drunkards and I came home to Percy, who’s probably just waking up by the time I fall into bed. Yet for some reason he wasn’t - he was sitting up, hands planted next to him on the bed with his unfairly wonderful and arguably even more unfairly long legs extending out in front of him.

He was shuffling around as I entered our tiny old flat, shoving some package in between the wood panels of the pallets we’d shoved into the corner of our room before we’d settled the dirty mattresses we’d found at a market on top.

“You alright? What was that, Perce?”

“No, no- Nothing at all really.” He was lying, without a doubt. Part of me was fully aware that whatever he was hiding was both innocent and none of my business - and whilst I knew both of these things and trust the man across from me with my life and so much more, I’m also criminally nosy.

Then his long arms reached out across for me, gently pulling me down onto the mattress. I could tell this is a ploy to distract me, so I really should've been above it, but I was not and still decidedly am not, and whatever desires to snoop I had before immediately drained out of me, because even if the sheets are ratty and itchy, he’s soft, and warm and looks perfect with the early morning sun lighting up his face as he leans down and presses his lips to my cheek. I tried to catch him with my own, but he was too fast for me.

“I need to work, you fiend. And you need to sleep - how long have you been up for now?” He was right, really. I was exhausted from work and everything that had happened the night before, and I could feel it - the drowsiness pulling on my eyelids as Percy pushed me down onto the pillows lightly.

I could feel myself waking up hours later - it was probably late afternoon from what I remember of the sun outside. Percy wasn’t back yet, assuming he had left a little while after I’d fallen asleep. We usually had a little while longer together in the mornings, but he’d missed work too much recently and insisted on heading off to work earlier to make up for it to his bosses. 

Percy wasn’t back yet.

I stuck my hand inside the pallets, ruffling around underneath. My hand fell on one of my few other shirts, which I’d stuffed under there one morning a week ago, lots of dust - but not the woollen package tied up with string that had definitely been shoved there just a few hours ago. I threw myself back against the pillows, groaning. Percy must've moved it after he’d seduced me into sleep. Sly fox.

It was like that for a week or so. I trusted Percy, more than anyone, I never suspected him of anything malicious and eventually the novelty of wanting to find out why whenever I entered our tiny London flat Percy would shuffle around, blushing and bumbling, wore off. I assumed he was just planning something for Feli. She always insisted in her letters that we didn’t send anything up to Edinburgh when her birthday rolled around, but Percy had mentioned still wanting to send her something. I often wonder which of us actually is her older brother, though I suppose Felicity may have been better off had it indeed been Percy. 

Eventually, on one of the few nights neither of us had to work, we were laying down on the bed together in comfortable silence, my head tucked into the crook of his neck, our feet tangled up since I hooked my foot around his ankle. He had my hand in his own, tracing my palm lines with his fingers, rubbing my own thumb against his. 

Then he sat up, disentangling his legs. I hid my pout at the sudden lack of warmth (and in general, lack of Percy) at my side as Percy stuck his foot underneath one of the floorboards which had always been loose and slightly raised, lifting it up completely. When he came back up he sat up on the bed, his knees tucked up against him and his back against the wall so I pushed myself up, setting my head on his shoulder. 

There it was, in his lap. The portrait. It’s a portrait of me, and it’s beautiful. Genuinely, truly, beautiful. I always knew Percy was good at painting, it being one of the many hobbies he took up whilst I was away at Eton, but I hadn’t seen many of his pieces. He usually tucked them away and swatted at me when I tried to look at them, and we didn’t have access to many painting supplies in our current financial situation. I always knew Percy was good at painting but- but this is something I could never have had imagined.

All the brushstrokes were soft, the colours perfect and my heart skips a beat. I couldn't help but take a sharp breath when I saw the red scars I had gained months ago in paint, but then I looked up at him and saw his own eyes glazed over with affection and felt my heart swell, the fear that had been closing up my throat washing away. There was just something about it all that touched me so deeply, and I squeezed his hand, hoping it sent across the words and adoration I couldn’t say out loud, without knowing that they weren’t enough and wouldn’t get across to him the endless extent to which I love him the way they should. The way he deserves. 

“I made this for you - it’s what I’ve been doing for the past week. It’s, uh, not that much really. I just wanted you to know. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, Monty. I miss your face constantly when I’m off at rehearsals. And, honestly, even if you weren’t - you’re perfect.” Percy swallows, his hands holding onto the painting a little tighter. Then he pulls out a small locket, empty of any subject. “I found this as well, at the market near the theatre. I wanted to put the portrait in it, so when I missed you at work or when you’re out buying dinner - well, so I could always be able to look at you, even if I don’t have the real thing next to me.” His eyes look up to meet mine, and there’s a shred of vulnerability under those perfect eyelashes.

And-

Damned above, I love him so much. And I told him so, pressing my lips flush to his soft ones, hoping he understood - and when I finally pulled away for breath, I could tell he heard me. 

There was something else in the package though, a similar shape. Percy beams, those beautiful crows feet I love to pepper with kisses when we’re lying together highlighted, throwing himself across to grab it and show me whatever it is. And, when he pulled it out, Gods, if it was possible for my smile to widen anymore, it did.

In our little Santorini flat, I hold the golden metal locket wrapped around my own neck, and fumble with the lock so it will open up properly, making sure to keep one of my hands still resting in Percy’s hair. I can’t help but feel a familiar tug at my heart when I see the portrait of my Percy. Sappy, romantic, perfect Percy who I will never let go of, no matter what happens. 

I look out onto the storm again. It’s fiercer now, wind whipping through the grass that runs across the islands cliffs and I give it a glare when Percy murmurs in his sleep. The rain makes a little sound when it patters against the glass panes of the windows, and I slowly feel the sounds of the outside storm, that’ll probably end up soaking the shoes I left outside earlier through, tug on my eyelids. It hits me that it must be past eleven by now, and Percy, Adrian’s wife - Rowen, and Felicity all that insist I get a better sleep schedule (though all three have strikingly different reasons), and so I tuck the locket underneath my loose shirt again, relishing in the familiar feeling of the warm metal against my chest, for I will always have Percy Newton by my heart, even if he isn't by my side.


End file.
